


Useless on Nirva Island

by Team_Two_Cats



Series: Useless (Suikoden V) [6]
Category: Suikoden, Suikoden V
Genre: Accidental Incest, Angst, Bisexual Disaster, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Two_Cats/pseuds/Team_Two_Cats
Summary: Called away to Nirva Island to deal with the Island Nations, Frey hopes the time with Georg will allow them to put the awkwardness behind them and start something, but things only seem to grow more cold between them. It probably doesn't help matters that he finds out he's got a whole family he never knew about and a hot aunt his age who he's having decidedly impure thoughts about.
Relationships: Freyjadour Falenas/Bernadette Egan, Freyjadour Falenas/Georg Prime, Freyjadour Falenas/Isabel
Series: Useless (Suikoden V) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1401328
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Frey grunts, shifts, finds his legs and left are all pinned. He struggles, manages to pull his arm free.

“Go back to sleep,” Roy mumbles, and tugs more of the blankets over himself.

Frey rolls his eyes, uses both arms to roll Lorelai off his legs. She, too, grumbles something, but the words are lost in the half-sleep. Stretching, Frey waits for full feeling to return to his limbs before slipping out of bed and gathering up his clothes, doing his best not to wake Raven, sleeping on a padded bench nearer the door.

He slips into the hall outside as silently as he can. So early, the Dawn Rune feels cool on his hand, the actual dawn probably less than an hour away. It continues to feel stronger the more he uses it, the more people he shares with. He wonders…

“Prince,” Lyon says, shaking the half-formed thoughts from his head.

He looks up, sees her standing near the central statue...next to Georg. Frey feels his body heat just seeing him there. He swallows.

“H-hi Georg!” he manages, and moves in for a hug.

But Georg flinches at the gesture, and Frey stops short, tries to keep the hurt from his eyes. But Georg is looking away anyway.

“Prince,” Georg says. Formal. Stiff. “I didn’t expect you up this early. There’s been some developments with the Island Nations. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to come with me to Estrise.”

Frey forces a smile, reaches out to touch Georg’s chest, wanting to feel its solid strength. Georg catches his hand, holds his wrist so that it almost hurts.

“I missed you,” Frey says, and it’s certainly true.

Georg finally looks at him, and Frey can’t read the expression on his face, the emotions shimmering in his eye. Georg releases his hand and steps back.

“I need to let Lucretia know the whole story before we go, but I’m certain she won’t object. Try to be ready in an hour.”

And then he’s gone, walking quickly to Lucretia’s room. Frey stares after him as he knocks and lets himself in, expecting him to turn, to look back. But he doesn’t.

“He’s probably worn out from the journey,” Lyon says.

Frey nods, pulls his hand back to his chest, looks down to realize that the Dawn Rune is pulsing on it. Is that why Georg pulled away?

“I suppose we’re off to Estrise, then,” he says. After the events in Sable and the Beaver Lodge, maybe getting out again is for the best. A chance to get away from the fresh wounds. A chance to meet some new people.

“Who do you want to take with?” Lyon asks.

Frey thinks about the people still sleeping in his quarters, decides to let them sleep. There are bound to be some people awake already. Then he smiles, and the Dawn Rune shines a moment on his hand. He knows just the people to bring.

By the time Georg meets them on the bridge, the Dawn paints the sky a brilliant pink. Lyon stands ready while Frey sits, dangling his legs over the edge of the rope bridge.

“This everyone?” Georg asks.

“I think you’ll find that we’re more than enough for whatever awaits, Sir Georg,” Isabel says, fiery hair positively ablaze in the dawn’s light.

“We will swiftly exact justice and deposit the bodies of the guilty into the nearest swamp,” Mathias says.

“Right, great,” Georg says.

Frey chuckles at the sarcasm thick in Georg’s reply, but neither Isabel nor Mathias seem to catch it. It’s going to be a fun trip.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frey's finally got some time with Georg, but the Queen's Knight seems intent on avoiding him. Frey's not one to be easily put off, though, and in a perhaps ill-advised move, chooses to confront Georg about what's going on between them.

The trip is a trail of monster’s bodies. By the end of it Frey’s pretty sure that the monsters have gotten the word out and their journey is uneventful for the last leg to Estrise. Not that the lack of monsters cuts the tension much.

Frey steals another glance at Georg as they approach the gates of the city. For the entire trip the man’s been avoiding him, keeping the fire between them. Frey slipped to his tent twice hoping to initiate a little…comradery, only to find the tent empty both nights, like the Queen’s Knight had anticipated Frey and was being pointedly absent. The disapproving looks from Lyon hadn’t exactly improved matters.

At least Isabel and Mathias were fun. Not that Mathias cared for sex, but he seemed to enjoy watching, and somehow through the Dawn Rune it was enough that they were all together, the connections between them strengthening.

Once inside Estrise, Georg practically runs ahead to the docks to sort whatever their travel would be, leaving Frey and the rest of them to make their way to Boz’s house, where they’ll be staying. Donna Wilde receives them warmly, and Frey can’t help but notice that Keith and Kurtz are even cuter than when last he saw them. They’ll be trouble in a few years. For the moment, though, they hang off of Lyon, begging her to teach them secret combat moves.

Isabel, perhaps insulted that they’ve neglected the very real and apparently very famous (in some countries, at least) Maximilian Knight, picks both of the boys up and carries them into the courtyard. Lyon and Mathias follow after.

Frey lets Donna show him his room, but immediately after she leaves, he slips out the window, feeling something like a thief but not wanting to deal with Lyon following him. She’ll be pissed later, he knows, but he’ll deal with that then.

He doesn’t both heading to the docks. Georg will have been there and gone. He goes to the tavern instead, and immediately spots the stock of black hair and dark eye glaring into a tankard. Frey sits down opposite Georg.

“You have something against me all of a sudden?” he asks.

Georg’s eye bulges and he flinches like Frey kicked him.

“Because I mean if you’re not into guys I’m pretty sure I’ve misunderstood entirely the relationship you had with my father.”

Georg makes a choking sound, then coughs loudly, shaking his head. Some of the other bar patrons are starting to look over, noticing the sudden commotion.

“What, don’t want to have this conversation in public?” Frey asks. “We could get a room, if you’d prefer…”

Georg seems to recover, takes a deep breath…and stands, moves for the door. Frey swears, follows.

Just as Georg reaches the door to leave, Frey all but shouts, “I’m just interested in a fuck, all right? Is there some reason you’re running away from that?”

Georg falters, pauses, his hand on the door. He looks at Frey, and there’s something in his expression that there aren’t words to describe. Part anger, part desire, part disgust, part guilt. A flurry of emotions that Frey watches battle across his face before they settle into his normal stoic resolve.

“Grow up,” Georg says, and leaves.

Frey feels the heat in his face. The sudden tears welling in his eyes. Everyone’s looking at him. Every saw that. Heard that. Frey feels his body shaking, pulled between running away and running after Georg. He stomps to the doorway, catches the door before it closes.

“Tell me that again when your cock’s up my ass!” he yells into the city, at Georg’s retreating back, but this time the Queen’s Knight doesn’t even pause, just keeps walking, and Frey knows he won’t see him again until tomorrow, when they’re ready to depart.

Frey swallows, shame still burning through him. But he doesn’t run, doesn’t give in to the urge to hide. Rather, he turns back to the tavern, to the sea of eyes watching him. He forces a smile, then proceeds to the bar and orders himself something large and strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Frey. Nothing like messy unresolved feelings to partly undo a lot of the maturing that he's been doing since the war began. He might be starting to understand people more, but he's also still a spoiled mess, and it was fun seeing that come back a bit. Next chapter's probably going to be an aside with Isabel and Mathias, because I rather like them and we need some sex, right? And after that, the Island Nations and Frey's meeting the family he never knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making an ass of himself trying to entice Georg into some fun, Frey needs a win, and that means making use of his ass in some familiar ways. Coping through sex is a totally healthy coping mechanism, right?

He should talk to Lyon about it. Maybe blow off some steam training, sparring, doing something she considers constructive. Instead Isabel fucks him with a strap-on, pressing him against the wall of his room, grunting with each thrust. Mathias remains on the bed, cross-legged, watching.

The alcohol still blurs the corners of his vision, and the room tilts as Isabel fucks him, filling him again and again. He moans, and when those become too loud, when the whole house probably knows exactly what they’re doing, Isabel gags him and flings him over the side of the bed. His cries are muffled as his cock presses against the soft sheets hanging over the edges of the bed.

Mathias watches him, head tilted to the side, expression neutral. The nights when Frey has sought out Isabel, Mathias has always remained, the Dawn Rune wrapping around them all. It feels right. Comfortable.

As if on cue the tingling in the Rune intensifies, and Frey tenses, strains against the gag and Isabel and everything and let’s himself go. The worry and shame about Georg are still there, still weighing him down, but a part of him at least is rising, slipping free. The light envelopes him.

_“This is Georg Prime,” Ferid says, “my…good friend.”_

_Frey rolls his eyes. He means his lover. And looking at him, tall, lean, with a piercing eye and a daring smile, Frey curses his father for having such good taste. He manages a formal bow, enjoying the way Georg’s eyes seem to drink him in._

_“Nice to meet you, Frey,” Georg says._

_“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, and Lyon nudges him with an elbow._

_Ferid shakes his head._

_“Georg is going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future,” Ferid goes on. “As a member of the Queen’s Knights. He’ll be working with your mother and I_ very _closely.”_

 _Meaning he’s fucking Ferid_ and _Arshtat. The thought should make Frey less attracted, more repulsed, but it didn’t. He wonders if they’ll use the throne room, if he can watch from his secret vantage, maybe bring someone along with to help him enjoy the show._

_He looks into Georg’s eye, sees the spark of attraction, knows that for all Frey’s just barely of age, the older man is still…in his prime._

_“I hope to get to know you soon,” Georg says, and there’s only a sliver of promise of it. Enough that Ferid doesn’t seem to catch it, though Frey’s breath catches and his heart speeds._

_He swallows. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”_

_And he does._

More white.

_“Say it again!” Isabel shouts, cracking a knuckle as her fist connects with the man’s face._

_The other trainees circle, practice weapons raised. Isabel doesn’t wait for them to come for her. She leaps inside the reach of one of them, catching her swinging arms in her own armpit, grunting at the impact but still pinning her forearms. With her free hand she strikes, breaking the woman’s nose. Blood gushes and Isabel hears the wooden sword clatter to the ground._

_Isabel pushes away, hard, sending the woman stumbling into one of her friends, hands uselessly trying to stop the bleeding. She bends, reaching for the practice sword, realizing even as she does that it’s too late. Two of the other trainees are closing, will be on her in—in a flash there’s Mathias, both their practice swords caught on his staff. With a blur he sweeps their legs, sending them crashing to the ground. Isabel has already retrieved the practice sword, turns back-to-back with Mathias as the rest of the trainees charge._

_There is blood. A broken jaw, a dislocated shoulder. Isabel gets a small gash on her forehead, and Mathias’ face is bruising by the time it’s over, but they’re both standing amidst the fallen, mostly unconscious shapes of their would-be fellow-recruits._

_Isabel spits blood but doesn’t care. She tosses the broken half of her wooden sword to the ground. Mathias is beside her even before she stumbles, grasps her side where her ribs are probably fractured._

_“Shall I dispose of their bodies in the nearest lake?” he asks._

_Isabel laughs and immediately regrets it._

_“Nah, I don’t think we killed any of them.” Not that many of them will be feeling much like walking around any time soon. “Thanks, though.”_

_“Of course, milady,” he says, then looks away. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you. Their insults…didn’t bother me.”_

_She knows he’s lying, but doesn’t call him on it._

_“We’re supposed to be Maximillian Knights, Mat. That means standing up against intolerance and injustice. Their insults were a stain on us all. You are the best man I’ve ever met. I won’t have them strip you of your truths.”_

_He nods, and Isabel chooses to ignore that there are tears welled in the corner of his eyes, just as she ignores the ones welling in her own._

The light fades, and Frey is back in the room. At some point Isabel flipped him over, so that he's on his back, looking up. Above him, Mathias’ face is now leaned over his own, their eyes level. Frey wants to say something, to give some reassurance, but the drink and the orgasm make everything difficult, distant. He manages to raise one hand, to place it gently against Mathias’ cheek, and then to give him a playful slap, before his strength gives out and sleep washes over him. The world dims to the sight of Mathias’ thin smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, rather smutty chapter (hadn't had one of those yet) that gets Frey back into his (mostly) happy place. Even as he remains connecting to people, though, something with Georg is under his skin (and won't be resolved soon). But first, the Island Nations, meeting a hot captain, and...learning she's his aunt. Awk-ward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frey and company head to the docks to find out what Georg's secret meeting is. Frey's not quite done blowing off steam, though, and it quickly lands him in more trouble than he can handle on his own. Luckily, a mysterious stranger arrives to give him a hand. And a bit more...

Frey sulks as they wait on the docks. For what, Georg still won’t say, but maybe that’s because Frey refuses to speak to him. Maybe.

The sea air is crisp, electric. It’s hard to stay visibly glum, so Frey slips away, trusting the others to meet whatever it is they’re there for. Even after the workout that Isabel gave him, he’s got energy, and needs to be moving. Only Lyon notices, and doesn’t try to stop him. In Estrise, she probably figures, what trouble can he really get up to?

It could be a challenge, though. Probably he could find some willing dockhands or sailors fresh from the sea and pull them into the thin spaces around the docks, have some fun. Most of them seem busy with a new, foreign ship that’s pulled up, though. He sighs, wandering further still, letting the air and the bright sunlight wash over him.

A figure catches his eye. A lean man, back against the tall wall of the dock’s wall. Eyes closed, face upturned. Pretty. Long brown hair. He catches Frey staring when he suddenly opens his eyes, but only smiles invitingly in response. Frey swallows.

He shouldn’t. Despite there being a thin, secluded space right by the man, where one of the turrets tucked into the wall. Out of view enough…

The man nods toward the space, as if reading Frey’s mind. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Frey practically skips over, weaving around the ropes and canvases stacked and coiled around. If Georg isn’t going to bother with him, then at least he can still have some fun. If only he could make it so that Georg would stumble upon…

He bounces a bit as he steps past the man and into the shadows. Sticking his tongue between his teeth and raising his eyebrows. The man follows as Frey turns, presses his back against the cool stone of the wall. He wants the man to kiss him, to touch him, to push him to his knees.

The man’s hand drops to his pants, and Frey squirms in anticipation. Instead of pulling out his cock, though, he pulls out a knife.

“Nether Gate sends its regards,” the man hisses, and Frey rolls his eyes.

Fucking seriously? Frey’s hand goes to his tri-nunchaku but of course the space is too narrow for it. Lyon has always told him his sluttish ways will lead to his death. It bothers him that she’s going to be right about that.

The man smirks, sexiness lost to menace, and Frey tenses, waiting for the strike.

Then the man jerks, body going rigid, eyes shooting wide. Frey puts his fists up, expecting an attack, but instead the man…drops. Blood seeps from where a knife protrudes from his neck. And in his place a woman stands, wearing the strange uniform of the Island Nations.

“You should probably be more careful,” she says, voice serious.

Frey’s heart races. She’s about his height with a powerful build, brown hair pulled back into braids that don’t quite manage to tame anything, that only accentuate the way her hair flares around her face like a mane. She looks only a bit older than him, in her early twenties, and under the muted apathy of her expression Frey sees something else. Of course, he almost got killed by an assassin a moment ago, so he could be mistaken, but…

“If I was careful I wouldn’t get saved by beautiful women nearly as often,” he says.

She raises one of her eyebrows and looks down at the man she’s killed. “I thought _he_ was more your type.”

“I don’t really have a type. Unless you mean I like my sexual partners to be a little dangerous. I can’t really deny that. And, well, you’ve kinda proven that you’re dangerous.”

That gets a small quirk of her mouth that might be a smile. He presses his luck, stepping toward her. She doesn’t retreat, not as he lowers himself to his knees in front of her, carefully straddling the dead body. He stares up into her eyes as he places his face inches from her body.

“And I do rather owe you for the whole saving me thing.”

She swallows, and her eyes dart back to the docks. Despite what’s happened, no one seems to have taken notice. Frey watches the battle play across her features.

“I should be getting back,” she says, but she doesn’t move away. “My father—”

“I’m very good,” Frey says, then runs his tongue over his upper lip.

“Fuck it, fine,” she says, and steps quickly around him, taking his former position with her back to the wall.

Frey wastes no time, shuffling over to her, hands immediately gliding along the fabric of her uniform. He’s not incredibly used to Island Nations uniform, but he figures it out quickly enough. Most everything about it is skirts, attacked in complicated fashions at the stomach and back. But he doesn’t need to worry about those, because the inner most layers are a pair of loose shorts and her tight undergarment, both of which he hooks and pulls down.

From his vantage, he sucks in a breath as he gets a look at her muscled thighs and mound. Lifting one sandled foot out of her clothes, he scoots forward, kisses his way up her inner thigh as he places the leg on his shoulder. He takes in the smell of her, sweat and sex, and feels himself harden.

His hands slide around to the firm round of her ass, and he runs his tongue up her slit, slowing as he comes to the top and finds her clit. Her hands find the top of his hair and he lets her guide him, responding to the pressure of her grip, the way she pushes and pulls him. Absently, he lets one of his own hands slip down, worming under his clothes, taking himself firmly and stroking.

It doesn’t take long, his mouth playing her as best her can, his hand teasing him closer and closer until her fingers grip and push with bruising force and Frey holds his breath and comes, the Dawn Rune flaring, the world descending into a pit of white light.

_“Come on, Frey, this is important,” Ferid says._

_“Dad, if that were true, why have an entire Queen’s Knights? I mean, if Lym’s in such a bad way that she needs_ me _to protect her, she’s pretty much dead.”_

_Ferid rolls his eyes and physically moves Frey into the proper fighting stance. “Be that as it may. You might actually have to defend yourself someday, too.”_

_“I_ am _pretty,” Frey admits, and Ferid laughs._

 _“_ And _you have a tendency of letting that get you into trouble.”_

_“I can’t help that I’m beautiful. Blame yourself and mother for that one.”_

_Ferid laughs again, then cuts off. Frey looks over, notices the sudden seriousness of his expression._

_“I’m afraid there’s a lot to blame us for,” he says._

_Frey frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”_

_Ferid waves away his apology. “Things aren’t exactly stable here, Frey. You might not notice it, but there might come a time when we can’t…when Falena falls back into conflict. If not with our neighbors, then with ourselves.”_

_But that’s about as long as seriousness ever lasts for his father, and Ferid quickly laughs again and slaps his shoulder._

_“Let’s not worry about that now, though. You’ll have trouble enough with jealous boyfriends. And girlfriends.”_

And more white.

_Bern pretends to be watching the ships, but really she’s watching the sailors, men and women moving around the decks, bodies lithe and strong. Her thoughts drift in directions of what she could do with those. But her father is nearby. She has to maintain appearances._

_“You should join a mercenary group,” Skald announces._

_Bern flinches and grimaces. Here it came._

_“Maybe the Lindwurm. Maybe the Maximillian. Haven’t had a kid to any of that yet.”_

_Bern doesn’t want to hear about all eight of her older siblings and everything they’re doing. The wandering swordsman. The husband of a queen. The pirate. The blacksmith. The merchant. The artist. The anarchist. And her. The dutiful daughter. Vice-Commander. The protégé._

_“I don’t want to hear it,” she says, but as usual her father isn’t listening._

_“Maybe you could cross the sea and fight abroad. Come back with all sorts of useful skills and information.”_

_Bern doesn’t respond. Just meets his “suggestions” with silence. Whatever happens, her silences are all her own, her voice something no one else can control or manipulate. She retreats inwardly as he drones on, enters the place within herself where she doesn’t feel the tendrils of doubt about if she’s a good daughter or not. If she’ll live up her brothers, Ferid and all the others she barely knew because as soon as they could they left._

_Why is she different? Why does she stay, obedient to a man she respects but cannot love?_

_Her attention returns to the crews of the ships, the bodies. Maybe she’s afraid what she’d do, without the structure of the military. Without her father’s presence. Maybe she worries that if she slips free of the cage, she won’t ever want to go back. And that it would break her father, so outwardly strong but inwardly…what would happen if he lost all his children to the waves and weft of the world? She can only imagine him meddling elsewhere, in the politics of the islands. Starting wars, planting intrigues, all in an attempt to draw his children back, or else burn everything to the water._

_“Perhaps you can investigate those rumors of entirely different worlds out there, Bern,” Skald says, but there’s something almost desperate in his eyes as he does._

_“Perhaps,” she concedes, and he laughs and stalks back down the ship._

_And maybe she’s just afraid she’ll fail. That she’ll miss him. Maybe she can’t stand the idea that she’d taste freedom and flee from it back to her cage. Maybe…_

The light fades, and Frey finds himself still on his knees, but leaned back, looking up into the face of the woman he just got off. The woman who saved him. The woman who now looks a bit familiar. The fullness of her memories hitting him. It seems to hit them at the same time, and they both stare at each other. Shit. He just sucked off his aunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was planning this part of the story I was all excited to write some Frey/Bernadette because I really think that's an interesting dynamic and had completely forgotten they're related. Hah. So things shifted a bit but I still think they really play off each other well. Things are a bit awkward at the moment, though...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well that just got awkward. And things threaten to get even worse as Frey meets his grandfather, Skald Egan, and has to try to talk things through with Bernadette.

“Ho ho! I see Bern found you before I could!” Skald says, voice booming.

Frey’s face is beet red and he nods, managing a chuckle.

“Yup, I had just…”

“Propositioned a young seaman into taking you under cover for some—” Bern says, and Frey chokes, waving his arms at her.

“I was just curious about knots!” he yells before she can continue.

“Ho ho hah hah ha!” Skald booms.

Georg and Lyon both wear matching disapproving glares, though neither of them look surprised. Isabel gives him a thumbs up.

“I see you’re a chip off the ol’ loins then,” Skald says. “Never could keep it in my pants. Probably why I have so many kids!”

He walks over and claps a hand on each of Frey’s shoulders, looking down into his eyes. After a moment of examination, he stands straight and claps him on the shoulders again, which nearly drives Frey to the ground.

“And you’re pretty! A wispy little thing, though. Didn’t get that from Ferid. The sleeping around, yes. That boy got more tail than, well…an adequate metaphor escapes me. But I remember him and, well, Georg over there, causing no amount of scandal when they were caught _in the act_ under the docks during an open air rendition of The Forgiveness War.”

Frey shot a look at Georg and it was his turn to blush. And if a part of Frey felt his stomach twist at the mention of Georg and Ferid…he quickly ignored it.

“But where are my manners? I’m Skald, your grandfather! And though she doesn’t look it, Bernadette here is actually your aunt!”

“Y-yeah…” Frey manages. “Nice to meet you.”

Skald leans down, face suddenly right in front of Frey’s. And there’s…something serious about it. A complete shift in mood.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Skald says. “He was a brilliant, caring man, and he is sorely missed. Your pain is ours, I just want you to know. I know we’ve never really been around, but I want that to change. We’re family, after all. I want to get to know the man my son raised.”

“Uh…yeah,” Frey says, emotions threatening to run away from him. This is all happening to fast. First the assassination attempt, then everything with Bern. Now this?

Skald stands straight again and laughs, mood restored by some magic to its former exuberance. “Wonderful! Now that’s settled, let’s get aboard the ship! We’re bound for Nirva Island.”

“Nirva Island?” he asks. “Are we…entering negotiations?”

“What?” Skald booms. “Whatever gave you that idea? That’s something that might get people talking! No, I just _happened_ to be out for a sail and just _happened_ to run into my long lost grandson and _by random chance_ we were both headed in the same direction. Nothing preplanned or orchestrated about that.”

Frey looks at Georg, who shrugs. It’s the first time he’s hearing about this, but apparently that’s the point. He takes a deep breath and gives a small bow.

“Then by all means, let’s just so happen to make our way to Nirva Island.”

Which earns him yet another slap to the shoulder, and he winces at what will definitely be bruises later.

Skald ushers them all to his boat, which is huge, and together they set sail. Frey remains on the deck as Skald begins the tour. He doesn’t really feel like dealing with the fanfare, and he notices Bern slip away as well, to a quiet stretch of railing. He makes his way over to her.

“So, uh…” he begins, but doesn’t really know how to continue. _I guess you’re my aunt?_ Or… _Is it gonna be awkward that we did the whole…thing?_ He runs a hand over his face.

“Look, don’t worry about it,” she says. She doesn’t look at him, her face blank, her gaze directed somewhere out to sea, though he’s not sure she’s really looking at anything. “We didn’t know.”

“Yeah…” The thing is, it’s not that Frey regrets it that’s giving him pause.

“I mean, you didn’t lie, at least,” she says, and there’s something approaching a smile that lifts the corners of her mouth. “You _are_ good.”

Frey grins. “Yeah, well, that was nothing. If you really want to see what I can do…”

She barks a laugh and this time does turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look away.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“Would it help or hurt my chances if I wasn’t?” He slides closer to her, resting his shoulder against hers. Their bodies touching, the heat of their skin separated only by thin fabric, he can feel the Dawn Rune rumble.

Bern looks back out to sea.

“That…vision I saw,” she says. “I’m guessing it was a memory?”

Frey holds up the hand with the Dawn Rune. “Yeah, sorry. I always forget to warn people about that. It’s…uh…it’s a rune. And when I’m…intimate with someone, it seems to flash, and we experience some of the other person’s memories, and some of our own. I think the sharing is supposed to help bring people together. Or…help me understand people. I’m not really sure, though I know a few rune sages who are very willing to experiment.”

Bern chuckles. “I bet.”

They stand a while, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the waves.

“I’m not sure why your rune chose that memory to share,” she says finally. “It’s not that I’m unhappy here. Just…”

“That you want to be more free to take up strangers on offers of sex in shadowed alleys after you save them from certain death?” Frey asks helpfully.

“Something like that, I guess.” She grunts and slumps her shoulders. “That’s not something I get the chance to do very often.”

Frey looks back at the deck. “There seems to be a lot of people around. I’m sure you could…”

“I’m their superior officer,” Bern says. “Besides, most of them love my father too much to ever really think of me as anything but his child. His mascot, basically, for all I grew up on these ships.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a chance to get away from this, I do have a castle.”

Bern shrugs. “I… It’s complicated.”

Frey frowns. “Fair enough. I mean hey, I just sucked off my aunt after almost being killed by assassins sent by the men who have set up my sister as a puppet ruler after killing my parents. I get complicated.”

Another smile. “I suppose you do.”

“My entire life I’ve been something of a fool. Like a jester…but sexy. Another useless Falenan prince. You seem like something of the opposite, for all you’re also basically royalty.”

Bern scowls. “It’s basically the opposite for me,” she says. “Every day I’m told how vital I am. How important. That the navy wouldn’t be the same without me. Wouldn’t be able to protect my home. I know it’s because everyone’s worried I’ll run off like my siblings. That I’ll leave them all with just by father and no one to be his filter. And he spends all of his time playing mind games, so that I’m not sure if he wants me around or wants me to go off chasing my siblings’ shadows.”

Frey turns so that his back is to the railing, but he maintains their contact. “I feel like a lot of the time everyone’s expecting me to fail. Because there’s no way I can do this right. I’m too flighty, too horny, and too irresponsible. But…I don’t want to be something I’m not, even if it is to save Falena. I do want to be _better_. I know I’ve been a shit a lot of times. But I don’t want to stop being _me_ , if that makes sense?”

He looks over and Bern meets his gaze, holds it for a while. In her eyes he can see a layered emotion. At the surface, the mask, the composure that hasn’t really slipped this entire time. But beneath that, something raw and angry, something resonating in harmony with his words, with the pulse of the Dawn Rune.

“It makes sense to me. Again, I feel the opposite in a lot of ways. That everyone has built me up into this demigod. Infinitely competent. Brave but temperate. Cool and decisive. A calming influence on my father but an invigorating force in the navy. And…maybe I can be all of those things. But I don’t think I want to be. I want…”

She trails off, and doesn’t start back up.

“Sorry.” Frey doesn’t really know what else to say.

Bern shakes her head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. I don’t even know you.”

Frey holds back up the Rune. “Yeah, but you kind of do. Magic, right?”

She looks at him. “Maybe you’re just easy to talk to.”

“If you’d prefer we could fuck some more instead.”

A full laugh this time. “You know, I never knew Ferid, but you remind me a bit of the stories.”

Frey tries to keep his face level at that. He’s never really been compared to his father before. He always assumed, what with the hair and everything, that he was much more his mother’s son. Tempestuous and demanding. Plus, well…

“Actually, you remind me of him a bit,” Frey admits. “Not just that you look kinda similar. Just…something about you.”

“And you still want to fuck?”

“I’m a mess, what can I say?”

Bern nudges him with her shoulder. “There are worse things, I guess. And you’re not the only mess.”

Frey almost misses the implication. He raises his eyes brows. “You mean…?”

Just then there’s a crash as Skald crashes out onto the deck. He rolls, is back on his feet in an instant.

“Now _this_ is what I call fun!” he shouts, and a moment later Isabel leaps into view, ducking under Skald’s arm as they try to catch her. She delivers a kick to the back of his knee and he buckles but doesn’t lose his balance entirely, and he manages to grab her wrist as she makes to punch his face. With a roar he picks her up and throws her down the deck.

Seamen run for cover, and Frey looks to Bern, who groans. She looks resigned, but as Frey watches there’s a subtle change, and instead of moving toward the altercation she reaches out and grabs Frey’s hand.

“Come on,” she says. “I’m guessing this will keep them all distract long enough for you to show me how good you really are

Frey doesn’t argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love how different they are. Frey, oldest but ineligible to rule and so sort of shelved. Bern, who is the youngest but the only one to stick around and "follow in her father's footsteps." Bern always seems so reserved because she has to be, because that's her role, but outside of that it's fun to think of what she might be like when it's just her. Anyway, more angst and nonsense to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally on Nirva Island, any negotiations are put on hold when it turns out a group of pirates are holding the lighthouse hostage. Bern agrees to help Frey deal with the issue, but also explains that not everything is exactly what it seems. Still, it proves to be an interesting...diversion.

Nirva Island is…nice. The air smells of the sea but there’s something different than Estrise. Or maybe it’s just that it feels different, because for the first time in his life Frey is outside Falena. Officially. There’s a rush in his chest, a rising like he’s a bird just opening his wings, seeing the wide sky ahead. But there’s also something…strange about it. A weight, pulling him back. He looks down at his hand, and it’s like the Dawn Rune is angry at him.

“Something wrong?” Lyon asks.

“I don’t think it likes being outside Falena,” he says. “Or maybe it doesn’t like being so far from the Sun Rune. Whatever the case, it feels…like it’s tugging me back.”

He turns, hand out, like he’s a compass, wondering if he’ll point back towards the Sun Rune. Instead, he yelps as he almost swings into Georg, who catches his wrist before it can clock him in the chest.

“Careful,” Georg says.

Frey just feels the heat of Georg’s touch, quickly yanks his arm away. He wants to say something, that this is important, but before he can form the words a small group of soldiers in those ridiculous rounded helmets come running.

“Admiral!” they yell, and Skald stalks forward, conversing with them in low tones before turning back to the rest of them.

“News, everyone!” he says, grinning. “Turns out some local pirates heard that yours truly was pulling into port and assumed this was one of my famous pirate-hunting expeditions.”

Frey sees Bern roll her eyes.

“Seems they’ve holed themselves up in the lighthouse and are threatening to blow it up if we don’t get gone as fast as possible. Sorry about this. I didn’t realize my reputation was so potent.” He laughs.

“We will gladly assist you in ridding the island of such scum,” Isabel says, stepping forward.

“I am loathe to deposit corpses in bodies of water larger than a lake, but for this I will make an exception,” Mathias says.

“Excellent!” Skald says, clapping Isabel on the shoulder. Somehow, despite her frame, she doesn’t even flinch. “I was hoping maybe the prince here could help diffuse this. And Bern, of course!”

“Of course,” Bern says, nodding.

“Now, Bern, I don’t want to hear any argu—wait, did you say ‘of course’?”

Bern nods again. “I would be happy to help.”

Skald narrows his eyes, but when he speaks it is only to say, “Wonderful! I’ll be at the nearest tavern, basking in the benefits of my fame!”

Frey watches him go with the feeling that this didn’t go exactly like the Admiral had expected, but unsure quite how.

“Did you just do something uncharacteristic?” Frey asks.

Bern sighs. “Let’s just say I’m in no mood to play his little games.”

She sets a brisk pace through town, the soldiers catching them up on what exactly has been happening. Frey stays up from with her, realizing as he does that Georg falls back, trailing with Isabel and Mathias. He, too, seems a bit surprised by what’s happening, but Frey does his best to ignore him, to keep his attention on Bern.

“I’m sure these…‘pirates’ are going to be expecting us to approach from the front. Georg, Isabel, Mathias, Lyon, I’d like if you could all oblige them. They’ll no doubt fall back when things start going poorly for them, and retreat to the top level, where they’ve probably got the ‘explosives’ ready.”

“Wait,” George says, “you don’t think these are really pirates?”

Bern looks at him for a few minutes, saying nothing.

“And here I thought you knew my father a bit better. Of course they’re pirates. And of course they have explosives. But some of Skald’s best friends are pirates. If you think this is spontaneous, you should maybe spend more time around that strategist of yours. Just try not to kill any of them.”

“No promises,” Isabel says.

“But wait, what does Skald have to gain pitting us against some fake pirates?”

“Real pirates,” Bern corrects. “And gain? You _really_ don’t know Skald. It’s just a game to him. Probably he wants us to spend a little more time together, seeing as how I’m going to be accompanying you back to Falena.”

Frey’s heart leaps a bit at that. But he tamps it down, trying to focus on what she’s saying. He feels about as confused as Georg looks, but there’s no way he’s going to let on now. It’s a bit…well, it’s nice for once to see Georg at a loss for words. Vulnerable, in a way he’s not used to. _My aunt is kinda scary,_ Frey thinks, somewhat proudly.

“And how do—”

“Please. There’s no way Skald can risk sending troops to assist the Prince. Doing so would only hurt your cause. Not only would it mean that the Godwins would have a legitimate reason to mobilize the dragonhorse knights against you, it would also unify Armes in their resolution to fight you, too. There’s no love lost between Armes and the Island Nations. If we seem to be taking sides, so will they.”

“Armes already is readying to ally with the Godwins,” Georg says.

Bern shrugs. “Not all of them. There’s a faction, sure, but you’re new to the region. Armes is much more complicated than one faction. Further, you all don’t really need the help we can give. Our navy is made of mostly ocean vessels. Not much help in your conflict, especially when you’ve already got the advantage on the water. I’m afraid you’ve been used, Sir Georg.”

“Now see h—”

“What my father wants out of this is twofold. First, he wants to see his grandson in action. Second, he wants to send me back with you, to strengthen diplomatic relations with your side should you win, and to gain intelligence on the conflict should it become necessary to take further action. Hence the pirates. To give us a sense of comradery and soften the blow that for all your weeks of negotiations, all you’re getting out of this is a single fighter. Me.”

Georg’s shoulders slump. “Ah.”

“Yeah, sorry. So, kindly knock in some teeth and give Frey and I enough time to circle the lighthouse and climb to the top. When the pirates fall back, we’ll catch them between us, and force their surrender.”

Georg just nods, and steps back to where Isabel and Mathias are doing their pre-battle stretches. Lyon looks at Frey, concern written on her face.

“You’ll be all right by yourselves?”

Bern actually smiles and put an arm around Frey’s shoulder. “Of course! I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Lyon hesitates a moment more, but finally nods and moves with Georg and the others to the front of the lighthouse. Bern pulls Frey off into the trees, moving around the building.

“So you mean what you said back there? About…all of it?”

Bern laughs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Because it sounds pretty fucked up.”

“Told you you weren’t the only mess. I figured this was going to be Skald’s call. Except, of course, that he doesn’t expect me to accept the posting with your army.”

“But you said—”

“I said what Georg would accept, and what my father is going to _say_ was his intention all along. He’ll ask in front of you and everyone, that I accompany you back to Falena, but he doesn’t expect that I’ll just agree. He wants me to refuse, because that means he’s out nothing, and I think that I’m being rebellious by doing exactly what he wants.”

“You dad really is a piece of work.”

“Don’t forget he’s your grandpa.”

Frey winces. “What if he suspects you’ll say yes? You don’t think he’ll not ask you to go?”

Bern laughs again. “He can’t resist. Even with how fast I agreed to this mission, he doesn’t think I’d agree to leave him alone. To let him have the run of the navy. He thinks I care too much about it to leave it all with him.”

“And…you don’t care?”

Bern stops and fixes Frey with a fierce look. “Of course I care!” She turns away. “But I think I’m starting to see why my staying around isn’t helping anyone. Not him, and certainly not me. I think it’s time I got some distance. Maybe time I leave for good.”

“So the talk about strengthening relations…”

They come through to a small clearing near a long ladder reaching up to the top of the tower.

“Not a lie…exactly,” she says. “That’ll be his reasoning. I just…might not want to go back, when we’re done. There’s a big world out there, and I haven’t seen hardly any of it.”

Frey smiles. “I know the feeling.” Though the rune on his hand still seems to be pulling him back. To the Sun Rune. To Falena. To the war he’s leading.

“Then we’ll both have some decisions to make, then.”

Frey nods. “And until then…I’m sure our diplomatic relations can indeed be strengthened.”

Bern grins, looks up the ladder. “You know, I’m sure it’ll take them at least another half hour to clear the pirates.”

“I’m not sure you know Isabel and Georg that well.”

Bern leans her back against the tower, pulls down her pants.

“You saying you’re in that much of a hurry?”

Frey shakes his head. “No ma’am!”

As it turns out, they have time enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skald is a terrible parent. And I like the idea that this all might have been something of a double bluff that he was too proud not to make. When Bern calls, the outcome might just be best for everyone, though. I never liked the idea that he was so good at manipulating Bern, though, who seems way too competent for that, and maybe finally ready to make some mistakes and have some fun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the trip back to Estrise, will sparks finally fly when Frey and Georg have a heated moment on the deck?

The stars sparkle as the ship heads back for Estrise. Frey has to admit, Bern had it down to a letter. Skald’s reaction, his proposition, the brief look of shock on his face when Bern didn’t argue for a second. Now she’s below deck with Isabel and Lyon, drinking, laughing, hopefully not telling too many jokes about Frey’s sexual preferences (Lyon would probably not approve of him fucking his aunt, though she’d probably not be surprised).

“Not having fun with everyone else?” comes a voice from behind him, and Frey for once doesn’t look back.

“It almost feels if I take a step forward, I’ll be able to walk right out among them,” he says. Leaned over the railing, the stars wrap around him like a shroud, like a blanket.

Georg chuckles. “I forget how young you are.”

Anger flares in Frey hot and fast. Like he’s just a child. A wild power fills him, and without a word Frey tenses and leaps forward, out over the railing.

Georg cries out, but he’s not fast enough to pull Frey back in. Luckily, he doesn’t need to. Light floods out of Frey, and when it fades he’s just…floating. The rune’s power keeps him in pace with the ship, but he feels like he could almost fly away, like he could rise until he was out among those tiny lights, those bits of broken rune.

“I’m not a child,” Frey says, turning back to the ship, where Georg stands frozen at the rail, arm still outstretched to pull him back in.

“I…I know,” Georg says.

Frey floats back to the ship. “I’m leading an army against the people who killed my parents.”

Georg flinches, looks away.

“I’m fighting with everything that I have. Surrounded by people who trust me with their lives. Who I in turn trust with mine.”

Georg steps back as Frey lands right in front of him. Their bodies are just inches apart, and for once Georg doesn’t completely retreat.

“I’m scared,” Frey says. “All the time. That I’m not enough. That I’ll fail. That I’ll…lose someone important to me.”

He steps forward, presses his body against Georg’s, which is stock still. “But I’m still trying. Still fighting. I’m _not_ a child. You shouldn’t treat me like one.”

He puts his hands on Georg’s shoulders, pulls himself onto his toes, and places a kiss on Georg’s lips. He holds them there, feeling his pulse pound through him, the power of the rune still making everything glow.

And Georg, finally, returns the kiss. His arms wrap around Frey, holding him as his tongue darts into Frey’s mouth. They are light and heat, are stars and sky. Frey closes his eyes, lets himself finally enjoy the feeling of this, of—

Georg pulls away with a swear.

“Wait, wh—”

“I can’t do this,” Georg says. He steps back, back again, putting distance between them. “You don’t understand, I k—I can’t.”

“Please, don’t go,” Frey says, but it’s to Georg’s back as the older man disappears back into the ship, leaving Frey on the deck, reaching after him, the glow within him slowly dying back as the night reasserts itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So messed up that Georg still hasn't said what happened. His own fault, really, that he comes off as an asshole. Poor Frey. Anyway, next time will probably be on Ceras Lake, and might involve the reveal of what really happened with Frey's parents. Until then!


End file.
